


One Night

by MothMeetsFlame



Series: How Far We Go [5]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Bargaining, Blackmail, F/M, Garcia is a Bitch, Het, House Cleaning, Implied Spencer Reid/Jason Gideon, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Murder, Murder Clean-up, Past Sexual Abuse, Rough Sex, Spencer Rocks, Stockholm Syndrome, Strangulation, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:52:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothMeetsFlame/pseuds/MothMeetsFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night-gone-wrong, Spencer calls Garcia to ask for a favor, one she is more than happy to provide in exchange for his... services.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't updated this series in quite a while, but I DO plan on continuing it. The plot bunnies have formed. I just need to put them all down on paper. Sorry for glossing over the porn, people. I had some serious writer's block with this fic that made me come to the realization that I have absolutely NO IDEA how to write het. Luckily, it is over, and I will never have to write something like this again, despite my total and complete fascination with Spencer being kind of a badass.

_“Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.”_

—Oscar Wilde

 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Spencer looked down at his bloodied hands, not surprised in the least that he could only see a blur of them through the tears. It had been a long time since he’d cried this hard, tears joined by the snot pouring from his nose, choked sobs clawing their way from his throat, stomach clenching, trying to repel everything it had taken in in the last twenty-four hours.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, but it had.

His whole life could have been written with that statement. There were a lot of things that weren’t supposed to happen. His mother wasn’t supposed to be crazy. His father wasn’t supposed to leave. He wasn’t supposed to be abnormal. Jason wasn’t supposed to be his first client—wasn’t supposed to become his boss—and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be dead now, blood soaking through Spencer’s clothes, seeping into his soul.

Spencer clutched his torso, trying to bring the pieces back together, but it wasn’t working. Everything was ruined now. He would go to prison, or worse, he’d be institutionalized. He killed a member of the FBI, and it wasn’t just that. It could have easily been seen as self defense—he had the bruises, welts, and whip marks to prove it—but the team would know, they’d see the marks, where Spencer had plunged the knife to cause the maximum amount of pain without killing him, would know he’d struck with every intention of murder, not of defense. Then where would he be?

There was no way he was going to get off easy. At the very least, they’d want him out of the FBI, but if they tried to put him somewhere, if they asked him to plead insanity, he didn’t have any compunctions as to what he’d do. He’d kill himself. That thought alone was enough to have his breathing under control. Worst case scenario, he thought, he’d end up dead.

 _Jason_.

Spencer didn’t know what to do.

Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. He knew what to do. He knew that he had to get rid of the body, burn his clothes, come up with an alibi, explain the disappearance in a way that wouldn’t have his team looking too closely. He knew that the cabin needed to be cleaned, bleached, and scoured of any trace of blood. He knew that, after all of this was over, he needed to call his sponsor and talk to him because the cravings were only just starting, and being here was doing nothing to help him.

But after that?

After all of this was over, he was going to be lost. Jason wouldn’t be there with his pep talks or midnight contemplations about the inner workings of the universe. He wouldn’t be there to keep Spencer in line, to make sure he didn’t push himself too far or worry the team unnecessarily.

Jason was gone, and Spencer didn’t know what to do about that. How was he supposed to keep on going? How was he supposed to function on the team without him? There wasn’t a BAU without Jason Gideon. Logically, he knew that wasn’t true, but it was for him. He couldn’t imagine Jason off of the team, buried three feet under in the middle of the woods.

No, he wasn’t going to think about that now. He was going to do what he needed to do so that he could get himself out of this mess. He could deal with everything else later.

Spencer wiped his nose on his sleeve and rubbed the tears from his eyes. This wasn’t beyond him. After everything he’d seen, how he’d been trained, if anyone could get out of this, if anyone knew what to do, it was him. He stood, leaving the room completely. He couldn’t think with Jason’s body right there in front of him, and now was a time for thinking. He could feel later.

It didn’t take more than a half-second for him to decide on his first step. He pulled out his cell phone to dial a number he’d hoped never to have to use outside of the office and listened with more than a sense of dread as the phone rang.

“ _Talk dirty to me_ ,” Garcia answered, voice sultry. There was no mistaking his number for Morgan’s, but Spencer was the only one who knew that when she said what she did, she meant it—at least with him. Anyone else, it was just Garcia being her flirty self. With Spencer, it was more than that.

He took a deep breath. “One night,” he said, a proposition.

He could hear the smile in her voice. “ _What do you want, Boy Wonder_?”

“A letter. Same as the ones you made to Hotch, but I want one from Gideon….” he hesitated. “To me.”

She chuckled. “ _Oooh. Should I be concerned?_ ”

Spencer didn’t rise to the bait. “You have three hours or the deal’s off.”

“ _I’ll have it in two. I want my night,”_ she said as if he would go back on it.

“When?”

“ _I’ve always loved sex on a full moon._ ” Her moan could have been _heard_ on the moon, it was so loud.

If there was one thing he hated, it was the loud ones. “The next full moon is this Sunday. If the team isn’t called in on a case, you’ll have me then.”

“ _Nuh-uh-uh. Case or no case, I’m getting my night.”_ She paused, a low chuckle sounding in his ear. Was she trying to be flirty? He couldn’t be sure. _“You may just have to bring me along_.”

Spencer shivered in distaste. He could compose the letter himself, but being so close to Jason’s death would mean that he wouldn’t be able to catch any mistakes he made, and he wouldn’t have a chance to correct them once the team found out about Jason’s leaving. It was better to distance himself from this, have other people take care of the details. Garcia was possibly the only other person he could trust with this task, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t loath to the idea.

“Sunday,” he gritted out, accepting the term. She would have to clear her leaving with Hotch anyway, so that aspect was out of his control.

“ _Ooooh!_ ” she squealed in delight. “ _I can’t wait, my genius._ ”

“The letter,” he stated, trying not to think about what he was going to have to do to get it.

“ _No problem on that end. I have this in the bag. ’Oh, my Dearest Reid, how I long for your touch.’”_

“Garcia,” he growled.

“ _So,”_ she giggled. “ _Not a love note?”_

“Not a love note,” he confirmed. “Jason’s going to be going away for a while,” he said slowly so there was no mistaking the implication. “I need you to leave a note to that effect. I don’t care what the reason is—cancer, depression, the job getting to him—but I need the team to not look too closely at it, and I need them as far away from this as you can get them.”

“ _How do you want it?_ ” And there was no doubting from the tone in her voice that it there was a double meaning to her words.

She _had_ to be flirting. Spencer grimaced. This was not the time nor the place. “Over the phone,” he said, answering her question. “Read it to me. You have two hours or the deal’s off.”

“ _You said three_ ,” she argued sulkily.

“You said two.”

“ _That I did,_ ” she agreed. “ _I_ am _somewhat of a genius myself. I’ll have it two._ ”

With a click, she was gone, and Spencer got to work. Wood was porous, but for all that Jason was a fan of classicality, he was also practical. He needed to be able to prevent a mess when he could, considering his line of work—figuratively, of course.

The floor was laminated, allowing Spencer some leeway in getting rid of the evidence—of which there was plenty. The cabin was always clean enough that traces of bleach wouldn’t raise any red flags for his teammates. Bleach was no stranger to Jason, Spencer knew. He cleaned all of his toys with it, and Spencer had had the job of scrubbing the floors clean of all bodily fluids more often than once when things got out of hand. _Like they had tonight_ , his mind supplied.

Spencer only shivered in response and touched his aching back in remembrance before turning to the matter at hand.

Blood wasn’t as bad as most people thought. As long as it was in a concentrated area, it would be easy enough to soak up.

 

_____

 

Spencer was tired. His head ached from a severe lack of sleep—his cravings had been keeping him awake every night this past week—and the knowledge that, had he had more control, he wouldn’t have had to be here was infuriating him.

Garcia’s house was small, more of an apartment than anything. Even his own small apartment, fit for a single person, was a palace compared to where she lived, especially considering all of the trinkets and figurines she had decorating every available surface. If he’d been led, unknowingly, into her house and asked to profile it, he would have pegged the tenant as a woman in her late sixties with an intimate knowledge of computers.

Wanting things to be over as quickly as possible, given the situation, Spencer kicked off his shoes and dropped his messenger bag on the floor. He took the time to neatly fold his sweater vest and oxford button-up, preferring to leave his pants on until he was certain there were no cameras trained on him.

She’d said to come directly into the bedroom. Wanting some sort of third-rate pornography scene—a lover coming home to his goddess, bathed in the moonlight—was undoubtedly Garcia’s style. She was one for over-dramatization in everything she did. He was certain she would be in this respect as well. It was bad enough that he had to tolerate her presence at work, in front of colleagues, and smile through his mind’s anger, but it was quite another to be in her place of residence. If she expected the virginal act he reserved for the team, she would be sadly mistaken.

Spencer walked quickly into the bedroom, not wanting to delay any longer.

As expected, the room was decorated precisely and the light of the full moon came through the window to set off her supple breasts just right. Her makeup was subtle compared to her normal style, allowing for what Spencer presumed to be a ‘natural look.’ If it were anyone else, he may have even been aroused by the effort, if not the display—and there was no doubt she had put herself on display, what with her legs spread out the way they were, shooting for elegant and landing on flimsy.

Arousal, however, wasn’t what he felt. Instead, the sight of Garcia’s bare skin the whitewashed moonlight was enough to evoke his rage. He’d had enough practice in his past to force himself to hardness, but he wasn’t in the mood for taking things slow and loving. She would have to be satisfied with whatever he gave her.

He pulled her legs toward him, so fast that she squealed, and fit himself easily between them. 

"What are you--?" she started to ask, but Spencer hushed her with a growl as he tore the panties from her waist—the only piece of clothing she’d decided to wear that night. The flimsy lace never stood a chance, they tore so easily, and he tossed them aside, glad that, at the very least, she was out one pair of undergarments.

"You want this?" he asked angrily to stifle further protests. "We do this my way."

Before she could argue, Spencer released his newly hardened cock and thrust inside her to the hilt. She yelled in surprise, but he didn’t wait for her to adjust. He set a punishing pace that had them both fighting for breath and concentrated on the feel of her walls squeezing around him, fluttering whenever he angled just right.

Other than the sound of his breathing, nothing could be heard from Spencer, but Garcia’s moans were loud, louder than they had any right to be—though he had to admit that he was driving into her hard enough that she had to be feeling _some_ amount of pain—and it was getting to him. He loathed the loud ones, the ones who couldn’t help but exaggerate the pleasure they felt.

“ _OhGodohGodohGod,_ ” she chanted, trying to lift her hips enough to angle his cock.

Spencer hated her squirming. He shifted, holding her hips with one hand to keep her still while the other wrapped around her throat. If she couldn’t breathe, he figured, she couldn’t make any noise.

“Stop talking,” Spencer growled into her ear when she began to protest, fingers grabbing at the hand on her throat. It wasn’t enough to have him believing she wanted him to stop, so he continued, forcing her legs further apart and pinioning her into the mattress, increasing the friction against his cock.

Despite his hatred for the woman he had pinned, he was beginning to enjoy himself, just the slightest bit. His cock certainly enjoyed the quick pulls and clenching muscles around him. Being in control was just a plus.

She struggled to pull in a breath, and her moans stopped almost completely due to a lack of air, but from the way her hips moved in time with his and how her eyes rolled back as she climaxed for the first time, he knew she was enjoying herself.

Spencer grimaced in anger. He didn’t want to see the way her lips curved into a smile of ecstasy or how she looked up lustily at him. He didn’t want to see the flush of her cheeks or the her tits bouncing with each punishing strike of his hips. He didn’t want to see _her_.

He released her neck and pulled out, ignoring her grunt of protest as he did so, and flipped her onto her stomach. He stroked his erection once, twice, to keep it from floundering in the disgust that had shot through him at the sight of her beneath him. He was out of practice when it came to keeping an unwanted erection. The sooner he was finished, though, the sooner it would be over completely.

Spencer lined his cock up and grabbed her hips with both hands, pulling her back onto him so she was hanging off of his cock. She had to lift her hips up to allow his entrance, but he had the leverage he needed to brutally fuck in and out of her, forcing low grunts and screams from her throat, all rising in volume now that her throat had been released.

She was slick and wet, even more so now that he’d changed the angle of his cock to strike directly into her g-spot. He ignored the noise she made, focusing instead on the feel of smooth velvet enveloping his cock and his own rising climax.

“ _Soclosesoclose.”_

A hard slap to her ass forced her mouth closed and Spencer thrust harder, creating bruises she’d feel for days. It wasn’t long before he was close as well, right there along the edge of coming, but he could go a little longer, just enough to give her the satisfaction she needed from him. No one could ever say he didn’t pay what was owed. Garcia’s letter had been a work of genius.

Spencer reached around and fingered her clit, working it just the way he’d learned from the few female clients he’d gotten during his years as a rent boy. Her passage flooded with release, fluids welcoming him further inside, smoothing the way for each of his hard thrusts. He fucked her through her orgasm, bothered less and less by her writhing and moaning because of the heat rising near to the top inside of him. He pulled his cock out and pumped only twice before he came over her back.

Spencer released her and backed away, forcing his breath to even itself. Without him holding onto her, she collapsed against the bed, unable to hold herself up through the afterglow. Spencer wished he’d been as lucky. His climax had been satisfactory at best, definitely not anywhere near the top ten. He wasn’t sure whether he preferred men or women more, but if this was the standard, then he was definitely leaning more toward his own gender than the opposite.

Garcia chuckled giddily, completely satisfied like he knew she would be.

 _We’re in the pleasure business._ Chastity’s voice came through clearly, just like it had the first time she’d said it. It didn’t matter now that he was in the FBI, he was in the same business he’d been in for the last ten years, and would be for the next ten.

“That was…” she chuckled.

“Pleasurable,” he finished, tucking himself away. He would need to wash a load of laundry before the come stains set in. Unfortunately, his aim hadn’t improved much and he’d gotten come on the thigh of his dark blue trousers. They weren’t his favorites, but they were nice enough that he didn’t want them ruined.

“Understatement!” Garcia exclaimed, smile wide enough to envy the Cheshire cat.

Spencer’s answering smile was tight-lipped. He buttoned up his white oxford with lithe fingers and covered it with a sweater-vest, one that he was dead set on destroying as soon as he got home. No matter the occasion, just the sight of it would remind him of this night. As it was, without the dilaudid, he would have enough trouble forgetting everything that had transpired—and he wanted desperately to forget it.

“Same time next week?” Garcia asked seductively, shoulders squared to enhance the size of her breasts. It wasn’t that they were unattractive, but that he knew the person they were attached to.

“As far as I am concerned,” Spencer began. “This will never happen again.”

Garcia’s smile was treacherous this time. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ve gotten a taste, Lover Boy. I don’t think I want to give you up just yet.”

“That’s unfortunate, but it’s not necessarily _my_ problem.” Spencer tugged his shoes on and tied them quickly, eyes searching absentmindedly for his messenger bag.

“Oh, I think it is.” Her tone was playful, but Spencer was an expert in reading beneath the surface. “I know your little secret, Spency. I know about Gideon. I know what really happened to him, and I can make it so that the team finds out exactly what happened to their dear old daddy.” She smirked and stood, throwing the cherry on top by sauntering toward him and looking challengingly up into his eyes. “I’m sure mommy will be real upset with her favorite son when she finds out.”

Spencer was close to just leaving—Garcia’s threats held no weight and she knew it; she was appealing pathetically rather than logically, which was her mistake in blackmailing Spencer—but her last sentence warranted action. He knew it wasn’t his mother she was speaking of, but the _team_ ’s mother. Hotch. She was talking about Hotch, and that was one mistake too many.

Spencer’s smile didn’t work so much as to mask his rage as to enhance it. His hand came up to cup her throat, and this time it wasn’t the caress she took it to be. He backed her into a wall, pressing hard enough that she would be wearing high-necked sweaters out of season if she didn’t want the questioning that would ensue.

“Listen very carefully, Garcia. I allowed your last interference to pass without consequence, either from Hotch or from myself, but I assure you that any further threats will result in consequences you could neither imagine nor predict. Whatever you believe I have done to Gideon won’t even be a basis for comparison. This is your only opportunity for acquiescence on this matter. Nod your head if you comprehend.”

Blue-lipped, Garcia nodded.

“Good.”

Spencer released her, and she fell to the ground, back pressed tight against the wall as she struggled to fill her oxygen-deprived lungs. She stared at him, eyes wide, every inch of her face broadcasting her surprise. Spencer kept himself from scoffing at her naivety. She may not have known everything about his past, but she knew enough that his attitude towards her shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

“I trust that this matter requires no further discussion.” It wasn’t a question, but Garcia nodded her head anyway.

Spencer smiled, boyish and cute, a little shy like he’d practiced so many times for the team. “See you tomorrow, Garcia,” he said.

He left her on the floor and walked outside into the chilly night air. It was cleansing, he thought as he continued on his trek home. It wasn’t enough to wash him clean, but it was enough to start. With Jason gone—and he still shivered at the thought; what was he going to do without him?—he could try to heal.

 

_“Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime.”_

—Mineko Iwasaki

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos make me smile :) Comments make me REALLY smile :D Both make me delirious with happiness, and there is always much rejoicing :*^@*&$)!&.


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